Look For The Sunset
by Caoimhe-Etoile
Summary: Have you lost your mind or has she taken all of yours too?; George's broken - of course he is - and nobody succeeds to get him to live. And then she does.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Title from She's Got You High by Mumm-Ra.

I tried my hand at Loveley fic. I've always thought they'd make an adorable couple.

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><p>"He wouldn't want you to be like this, you know," she said softly. George looked up to see Luna standing over him, a note in one hand and a Tuppaware in the other. One could see how much George went through without really knowing him. His face was withered with sorrow and the lines on his face deepened with sadness. He reminded her of her father. He'd look almost exactly like that when she crept up on him when she came home from Malfoy Manor. He'd immediately brightened once he saw her and all the pain had been washed away as he pulled her into a rib-crushing hug. She had the urge to do the same with George. She just couldn't stand the pained look on one's face.<p>

"Well, I can't help it, Lu," sighed George, facing the headstone again. He brushed his fingers along the engraved letters. _Fred Weasley._

"It's been months, George. Your mother's worried."

George snorted. His mother's been visiting the grave as much as he did, but since winter started, he guessed she's been home taking care of the rest of the family.

When he said nothing, she knelt down beside him. The snow made her knees cold, but she didn't mind. She took off her spectrespecs, placed it at the foot of the headstone and then the note beside it.

"Spectrespecs, Luna?"

"Fred said he'd been meaning to get one after the war, but never got around to it." She hadn't chosen the best words, but the way she said it made it seem like he'd been too lazy to instead of being too dead to. It comforted him.

"What about that?" he asked, pointing at the Tuppaware in her hand.

"Oh, pudding. Do you want some?" She pried open the cover and revealed a big blob of chocolate pudding. "It has peanut butter in it."

She produced the spoon and looked expectantly at him. Eventually, he took it and scooped up a big spoonful. It melted in his mouth, and it tasted good. "It's good. Where did you get it?"

"I made it," she said simply, taking a mouthful herself.

"Really? I didn't know you could bake."

"That's because you don't pay attention."

He almost choked. "Am I suppose to?"

She looked at him with her usual thoughtful expression, then shrugged and went back to the pudding.

They stayed like that for awhile. Both sitting cross-legged in the snow, she scraping the last bits of the pudding, he observing her without her noticing. Once she finished, she stowed the Tuppaware away back in her bag.

"Are you hungry, George?" she said, getting up.

"Not really, why?"

"You've lost weight."

George looked down at himself. Hmm. His clothes have been rather loose lately.

"I'm eating Chinese today," said Luna, offering him her hand.

He looked at it wanly, contemplated, then finally accepted it. It's been too long.

"You haven't shaved you know," she mused as they shoved their frozen hands in their pockets and headed towards her apartment.

He rubbed his hand along his chin, feeling the beard. "I know."

"I think you could do without the beard."

"Really? I reckon it made me look better," he grinned.

"It makes you look old."

He laughed. "But I _am_ old, Luna."

"Not quite. You're still young." Then she added in her head, "We all are."

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><p>"Thanks for dinner, Luna," he said, depositing his plate in the sink.<p>

Luna flicked her wand and the soap and sponge started washing the plate themselves. "You needed it," she replied as she cleaned up the table.

George opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. He crossed the kitchen and into the living room. He collapsed on the sofa and magicked the television remote towards him. He'd seen a Muggle film once and the bloke had used the remote to operate the television. George, however, didn't have a clue what to press. "Hey, Luna, how do you turn this bloody thing on?" he called.

Luna appeared seconds later seeing him fiddling with the thing, panicked that the screen had turn fuzzy and made strange sounds. "Here." She took it from him and returned it to its normal state. "You use this big, grey button to turn it on and off. That's for volume."

"Well, they should write something on it then. Something like 'press here to on' or 'this is the bloody volume'."

"It does, George. It says 'on'," she laughed.

George looked annoyed. "Yeah, well, they could've made it more obvious then," he muttered, pressing random numbered buttons to flick through the channels.

Luna went back to the kitchen to finish her work. As soon as the kitchen was clean, she stood in the middle, put her hands on her hips and huffed in satisfaction. She walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. "George, do you want more pudding?" she called out, scanning the shelves.

There was no reply. She straightened, close the fridge door and entered the living room. "George?"

She found him slumped sideways, mouth open, the remote still clutched in his hand. She smiled to herself. He looks seventeen again.

She gently removed the remote and switched the blaring television off before going into her room to retrieve an extra blanket. "George?" she shook him gently.

"Mmm?" he mumbles, half-asleep.

"Legs up, George." He did as he's told and she spreads the blanket over him, toes peeking out as he's far taller than she is. His snoring became steady almost immediately. Luna made herself some tea, leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room, and watched him sleep for a bit. He looks at peace, and she's sure he hasn't been in a while. From the way he snores, one could tell he hasn't been getting much sleep. It wasn't loud like the way Ron does, but it's not quiet either. It's just enough to drown out the nightmares. 'If a person snores, it means that he isn't dreaming. You can't dream and snore at the same time,' she remembered Hermione's voice, telling that to her one DA meeting years ago.

She glanced at the clock. It's only eight. She reached for a book from her ceiling high bookshelf and curled up on the big, plush armchair. The book was tattered and dog-eared from being read too many times, but it remained Luna's favourite.

She managed to finish her favourite quote, a poem by Robert Frost, – Luna's certain he was sorted into Ravenclaw when he went to Hogwarts, she absolutely loves his works – at three in the morning and then drowsiness overtook her.

_"But I have promises to keep,_  
><em>And miles to go before I sleep,<em>  
><em>And miles to go before I sleep."<em>

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><p><strong>Should I continue? Please tell me (:<br>**Because if there isn't a satisfying demand, I'll probably delete it.  
>Oh, and tell me if I should keep it in past or present tense.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: This is a really short chapter, because I wrote it during exams, but, uhh, yeah.  
>I really struggle to keep Luna's personality through the whole thing.<br>I pressure myself too much :|

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><p>Luna awoke to find sunlight streaming through the windows and bounced off the cream walls. It blinded her. She held up a hand to shield her eyes and yawned. She was about to get up when the blanket she had put on George now lay at her feet, which had evidently fallen when she stood up.<p>

She padded through to the kitchen, still squinting. "Morning Luna," greeted George, his voice raspy from sleep. She yawned again and sat on a chair heavily. "I'm very sorry for crashing on your sofa last night like that," said George apologetically as he set a mug of steaming tea in front of her.

She took a sip. "How did you find the things, though?"

George flicked his wand and a cabinet door banged closed. He smiled at Luna and winked, knowing she understood.

She took a long sip out of her tea, letting the steam cloud her vision. George leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. He felt like he should feel odd, like it should be a sort of an awkward silence, but it's not. In fact, he feels perfectly at ease; maybe silence is all a person needs.

After a couple of minutes to themselves, George straightened up. "I should go," he finally said.

Luna set her mug on the table, pushed back her chair and walked him to the front door. "But you don't want to," she noted.

George bit his lip, not wanting to admit it, so he just said the next best thing he could think of. "Thanks, Luna." He descended the steps before turning around halfway and added, "I think I really needed that." The corner of his lips curled up into a crooked half-smile.

"I think you did too," she smiled back and watched him disappear around the corner, then wondered where exactly had he been to all this time.

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><p>Months passed and Luna hasn't seen George since the day he left her home. Not at Florean Fortescue's, not at Harry's anniversary party, not even at Fred's grave whenever she visits to say hello. Apparently, he hadn't made the effort to contact anybody, not even before he disappeared, it was always the other way around. No one knows where he is, but then again nobody knew since the war ended.<p>

"I know we all lost a brother that day, but George, it's like he lost himself," said Ginny one day when she and Luna went to get coffee. "But I guess, in a way, he did."

"It's never been only George, has it? Or only Fred. It's Fred and George."

"Fred and George," repeated Ginny softly, slowly stirring her mug of coffee before taking a big gulp. She winced at the heat.

"I don't think he can sleep much, George," continued Luna. "He couldn't when I last saw him. Must be the nargles. They like to haunt people. Maybe Fred thinks it's an amusing way to let him know he's still there."

Ginny stared down into her mug. "Can't look in the mirror either. Smashed every one the moment he got home, even mine, though god knows what he'd be doing to waltz into my room and start dancing in front of the mirror."

"He's just lonely, Gin."

"But he didn't have to disappear like that, did he? He didn't write to us, didn't even come home for Christmas. Percy's starting to get distant too. We think he's beating himself up again, and he was just starting to recover from the guilt," said Ginny, evidently getting angry at her brother's behaviour.

"He needs closure, Gin. I don't think he's found it yet."

"Damn right he needs closure. You should've seen Mum a few months back. She was worried _sick_. She's better now though, since Harry, Ron and Hermione promised to go through the Ministry's files and try to find his whereabouts. We know she doesn't really think that they can find him, but I guess it's nice to pretend when you're kind of desperate." Ginny sighed and Luna concluded that she just missed her brothers – both of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Feeling like a she needed a walk, Luna slipped on her navy ballet flats, grabbed her sling bag and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Morning, Tom!" she chirped as she moved past the bar.

"Ah, Miss Lovegood. Pumpkin juice?" smiled Tom the bartender, revealing an atrocious set of teeth.

"Not today, Tom. Just going through for a walk."

"Diagon Alley's a tad busier today, though. But have fun."

Luna smiled as she bounced through the back door and entered Diagon Alley. The familiar bustle of the small town filled Luna's ears. She hadn't visited it in a long time.

She first passed Madame Malkin's, the witch herself measuring the height of a boy with much difficulty as he jumped with anxiety, no doubt excited about his acceptance to Hogwarts School. There seemed to be an autograph signing at Flourish and Blotts and Luna peeked in, hoping it wasn't Gilderoy Lockhart again. She saw a few children picking out schoolbooks Luna recognized immediately, most with their parents' arms full of cauldrons and quills and scales, some even with a cage or two with owls, obviously shopping for supplies for school in a few days time. She stopped by Florean Fortescue's to get a small cup of ice-cream and found a couple of juniors hanging around the ice-cream parlour, who asked if she was the infamous 'Loony Lovegood'; apparently, there is a large portrait of her hanging in the Ravenclaw common room, painted by Dean Thomas. She smiled and nodded, remembering just how much she missed those days, despite the name-calling and bullying. She waved them goodbye and continued down the street and let her feet take her wherever they wanted to go; she's been too familiar with the alley.

She found herself stopping in front of a once lively shop, on the corner of a quieter part of Diagon Alley. Paint was chipped off and fading into a mundane grey. The big replica of the owners in front looked rusty from disuse. She slurped the last of her ice-cream and dumped the cup in a nearby rubbish bin before trying the front door. She found herself here a few times over the months, but it was always locked. Though today, she could see the padlock dangling off the handle from the inside. She pushed the door open and it creaked loudly.

Still, manky air greeted her. The shop had an air of neglect and abandon; obviously hadn't been in business for too long. Dust covered the shop like some sort of smoky snow, making her nose twitch with itchiness. Products were still arranged on the shelves, though some were lying on their sides, almost just like the used to a couple of years ago. Cardboard boxes were stacked carelessly in clumps on the ground.

A sudden clash made her head jerk up. It came from upstairs, from where the store was located. She weaved through the boxes, crossing over most of them and trying not to step on anything. She climbed up the metal stairs and stepped through the curtain at the top. "George?"

"Ow!" cried George, banging his head on the ceiling. Luna looked up to see him sitting on the top of a tall ladder, rubbing the back of his head, coating it with dust and making it stick up even more. "Blimey, Luna. What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd stop by." She gestured to the fallen boxes, dropped by George, its contents spilled all over the floor. "Do you need a hand?"

"Actually, I – um, no I've – um, yeah, please?"

Luna half-smiled and started to stand the boxes outright. She gathered all the things and saw rather familiar objects. She noticed that they all either have both their names on it, or only Fred's; a stack of parchment with handwritten spells for certain objects bound together by string, small notes left by either twin to remind the other which product goes where – most of which were written by Fred –, rectangular container full of product design – almost all signed by Fred – and a small locked treasure chest with both their initials carved on it, amongst other things. Most of the things were stuff they were famous for back in school. She saw a couple of broken punching telescopes, untransformed trick wands, rejected self-inking and spell-check quills, amongst other things. She assumed they were rejects, early versions of their best-selling products. She arranged them all neatly as opposed to George, who was dumping everything and squashing them in, hoping they'd all fit.

"What are these for, anyway?"

"Oh, uhh, storage."

"But it's already in the store."

George was silent as he continued packing, his eyebrows furrowed. Luna eyed him for a bit before stacking unopened Skiving Snackboxes into another box and then sealed them all closed with tape. "We're bringing them down?" asked Luna, to which George simply nodded.

They loaded their arms with the boxes, Luna's eyes barely peeking over them, both too stubborn and lazy to make two trips. They shuffled towards the stairs, descending in awkward positions and slower than sleeping Ruxus Croves, with George occasionally saying, "Watch for the steps!"

"Where do I put these then?" asked Luna, her voice muffled by the boxes.

"Err, out here," said George as he kicked open the back door. She followed him and carefully placed them in a tidy stack next to his.

"Thanks, Lu. You saved me the trouble of going back up at least twice."

"Sure thing, George."

There was silence, their conversation hung in the late summer air. Luna decided she should go, knowing that George had more to do in the store. Just as she was about to walk away, she turned around. "George, where have you been?"

George blinked, not knowing what to answer. Luna scanned his face, obviously expecting an answer. "Just… around."

"Why don't you come home then?"

He hesitated. Why _doesn't _he go home? Was it because it held too many memories he couldn't bring himself to remember? Or was it _because_ he hadn't been home, he's afraid to face his family? Was it because he still isn't able to look Percy in the eye, even though George doesn't blame him at all? Was it because his baby sister and brother have all grown up now and Fred won't see it, therefore he feels guilty? Was it because he can't bear to see just how messed up he is following Fred's death?

When he didn't answer, Luna knew she probably wouldn't see him again, at least for a few weeks. So she stepped forward and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. He smelled of wood, probably the usual scent boys think makes them smell good, and lavender. It reminded her of the edge of the forest behind her house, where her mother used to bring her and play hide-and-seek amongst the clearing full of lavenders and daisies and tulips.

Surprised by this gesture, George froze for a moment, feeling immensely awkward. But then he felt an odd feeling, possibly relief, and relaxed immediately as he returned the hug and squeezed her shoulders.

"You don't have to be alone all the time, George," she said, and George realised that somehow, she made all the sense in the world.

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><p><em>So, I'm keeping it in past tense, I guess.<em>  
><em>I honestly have no idea where this is going, though.<em>

**& tell me if you want it me to continue. Because this could might as well just be the end, right there.**


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